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Parents’ Thoughts on Death

By Lisa Belkin July 7, 2009 11:41 amJuly 7, 2009 11:41 am

The passing of a celebrity starts many of us who are not celebrities thinking of our own mortality. About the things we can do to live longer, and then to live on, and about the things we can’t. Among those thinking deeply lately are Diana Oliva Cave and her husband Damien Cave, both Times journalists, who went from covering Iraq to the (somewhat) quieter life as parents of five-month-old Balthazar, known as Baz. As they have done here before, they describe their thoughts in tandem, with Damien in Roman typeface, and Diana in italics. But first, a personal plea from me — Damien and Diana, PLEASE go buy life insurance.

Mortality

By Diana Oliva Cave and Damien Cave

Ever since Balthazar was born in February, I have had this sometimes-overwhelming awareness of my mortality. Oddly, Michael Jackson’s death gave me the excuse I needed to talk about it. He was 16 years older than me, but as a girl I saw him as a peer (and my future husband) so his passing was yet another reminder that my own time is limited.

When I saw the three children he left behind, I was surprised to find myself worrying. What is going to happen to Michael Jackson’s kids? What would happen to Baz if something happened to me or to both Damien and me?

It wasn’t just that they lost their father. And it wasn’t just a fear of dying young. It was all those moments that they could never share.

I told Damien: No matter when we go, it will be too soon.

I admit, I also have thought a lot more about our impending deaths. Maybe every new parent feels this way, but since we had the baby, or actually since Diana was pregnant, I’ve been struck by how the rest of our lives suddenly seem closer at hand. I first noticed it during a preview for some bad romantic comedy with a wedding scene. I found myself identifying not with the couple, but with their parents. Weird, I thought — and then it kept happening. In daydreams and quiet moments with Baz, I keep seeing us in older roles, at graduations, weddings and family gatherings. We’re always happy in my visions, but the moments seem too close. Time seems to be accelerating now that we’re parents — which means death is closer than I thought.

I have never really been all that fatalistic. While I consider myself pretty responsible and realistic, I have always lived in the moment and tried to take advantage of my time with friends and family.

But then you start to realize that bad things happen; people die. Damien’s mother passed away suddenly in late 2006, then we went to Baghdad where death was around every corner. That year we were away, Damien’s grandfather died after a long illness and a few months later, while we were on a break from covering the war, an Iraqi colleague of ours was assassinated on his way to work.

Plus, there were a few times when Damien had close calls.

I’ll never forget reading the last line of a story that he wrote while embedded with American troops in Baghdad’s dangerous Haifa Street area during our first rotation together. I was at the bureau and he was still out with them when he wrote that an Iraqi soldier had pointed his rifle at him and pulled the trigger. It was empty. The soldier laughed. I cried. What if a bullet had been in that gun? It was too real, too possible.

I was more affected by the soldier who died with me that day. I hadn’t thought much about the idiot Iraqi with a bad sense of humor.

But in some ways, my experience was similar: I was far more afraid of something happening to Diana than to me. When she came home from her first embed with another reporter and photographer and said “it was fun,” I nearly lost it. Fun? Are you crazy? I feared she was being reckless.

Now too, I worry more about her than me. Maybe it’s the idea that now, with a son, I wouldn’t be the only one to miss her. Even when I think about my own death –- like on a recent commuter flight with some god-awful turbulence and a mediocre pilot –- my main thought tends to be: How will Diana and Baz deal with this? Another thought that hit me: I really need to buy life insurance.

The funny thing is, I thought having kids would cure me of such morbid thoughts. Part of why we wanted to hurry up and have kids -– we’d always wanted them but kept delaying -– was because we longed to move past all of this. I hated that grief had become as familiar as a chronic illness: I could anticipate each stage; I knew its symptoms, how long they would last, and what would follow. I needed something else to fill my mind. After so many ends, I needed a beginning.

I guess it’s another example of us wanting to live life to the fullest. Having kids, for me, has always been a part of that. I’ve seen so many parents who find that their kids make them happier than anything they’ve achieved in their own lives. When I studied abroad in Australia, I’ll never forget how thrilled my father was when I called and told him I was looking at an actual Tasmanian devil. I’ve just always known that the greatest joys of my life are going to be witnessing what happens to my children.

I wonder, though: how does our heightened sense of mortality affects us as parents? You’d think that our fears would make us cautious, but at this point, I feel like it’s made us more eager to experience life and show our son how thrilling, surprising, intense, tragic, funny and deep it can be. We have not become over-protective. Our worries do not make us want to put a helmet on Baz and keep him sheltered (though I do occasionally worry about dropping him when I’m walking down our apartment’s cold, stone stairs). Instead, we dream of living abroad again, of maybe bringing him back to Iraq someday so he can meet the wonderful people who kept us safe and inspired us.

I agree. It doesn’t make me want slow down. In fact, it’s the opposite. I feel more active and engaged with life -– enough so that I’m seriously thinking we should go as a family to China this fall for a wedding, even though I know it will completely exhaust us.

But for me, there is still a sense of sadness that I didn’t have before. Seeing Baz makes me realize it doesn’t end with me. Up until this point, I guess I thought only of my parents and siblings when I thought of the cycle of life. It ended with us; now with a new generation, in my son, a new cycle is being created and at some point, I won’t be a part of it anymore. Baz is going to keep living and I’m going to want to keep watching, but I won’t be able to.

But of course, what you give him, as a parent and teacher, will live on. When my grandfather died, I relished all the stories he told me and the wisdom he shared. I wouldn’t be who I am now -– even after he’s gone -– without his input. That’s what I want for our kids. The idea of a legacy need not have anything to do with money or property; it’s the stories we tell, the experiences we share. And that always endures.

That seems to be more of a comfort for men than women. I’m less concerned with passing things on, than with sharing in them. I don’t just want to show Balthazar what it takes to have a good marriage, and respect whoever he ends up with. I want to be there when he falls in love. I want the details.

I’m just not sure I’ll ever feel done. But maybe this will get easier with time.

When I was a kid I used to be incredibly afraid of getting shots. I just couldn’t imagine a time when that fear would fade. But you know, it did. Sure, it’s still not my favorite thing to do –- in fact, it’s why I didn’t get an epidural during my delivery –- but I no longer feel like I’m going to cry or pass out when someone approaches with a needle.

I wonder if the sadness I have about death will also fade. Your grandfather used to joke about dying as if it was nothing. But my grandfather, before he died, said he was scared. Will I ever get to a point when I’ll be at peace with the idea of my own end? Will this new awareness of mortality fade as the kids get older, or will it intensify?

When I had my daughter I began to long for a certainty about an afterlife; I couldn’t, and still can’t, imagine not knowing what happens to her, what she is thinking and experiencing, not being privileged to be with her. I can’t bear to think of her spirit as being cut off, ever; I want desperately to believe it will live on in some form or other. That certainty evades me, but I continue to yearn for it.

The effect of this heightened awareness of mortality, although it centers in my daughter, has been to widen my interest and concern in all the world’s children, particularly those whose lives are difficult, painful, and short. It has made me want to help make their time in the world easier in some small way.

This larger connection, to me, is what makes the idea of mortality bearable at all. I don’t feel a particular need to give my daughter everything she or I ever dreamed of. I am concerned that she know she is loved, know herself, and know the world in whatever way she decides to make that connection. It’s a very different form of “living life to the fullest” than that mentioned in the blog entry. I do feel a passionate need to work to give every child the assurance of food, health, security, and education.

Beautifully said.
But…..
There are two early milestones where you MUST get a will. When you have children and when you acquire property.
In Texas if you do not have a will the state gets to decided what happens. Who wants that?!
My mother proclaimed that she didn’t have a will because she wanted to be “as big a pain in the ass dead as alive.”
She succeeded.

This is more of a philosophical post than a nuts-and-bolts one. Here is my take on the nuts and bolts you need to be ready, logistically, should you die unexpectedly:

1. Will, for both spouses if married.
2. Health care proxy, in case you become incapacitated and the spouse needs to know whether or not to pull the plug (remember the Schiavo case!)
3. Life insurance. We got enough to pay off the house, pay for college, and have some left over, or enough to give the surviving spouse about $50K in income for life.
4. Gathering of information on all your accounts, brokerage, retirement, bank, etc., so that your spouse will be able to access them if you are not around.

Wills are not too expensive. If your plan is simple and you have less than a million dollars (or so), a lawyer can get them done for under $500. You can get a form will online, but those often have extra, superfluous provisions that don’t do you any good and may even harm you.

As a single working professional I traveled round the country frequently. When my plane took off or came in for a landing, I’d often think, “If its over now, it’s okay… I’ve had a great life. No one depends on me or waits for me… family and friends may be sad, but there’ll be barely a ripple.”

How differently I think now that I’m a single adoptive mom. My daughter has already been abandoned once before. I’ll do whatever I can to preserve — no, defend — my health and well-being to be there for her as long as it’s humanly possible.

I watched another single adoptive mom with two daughters who was diagnosed with early stage breast cancer. She looked at her family history and, without flinching, went after the cancer with incredible tenacity, determined not only to crush the disease, but deny it the slightest margin of future opportunity. She had a double mastectomy as well as a hysterectomy. I’d do the same, if I had to, in a heartbeat.

A good book to read is called, “Death and Dying.” I had only wished I had read it at the time my parents were alive. I now understand there behaviors better that now I know there are five stages we go through before we finally accept it as the final stage, “death”.
I personally go to catholic mass seven days a week at 7:30 a.m. and out of the thiry people who attend I am the youngest (57).
I feel refreshed and start my day each day, though I have become more aware of peoples miserable states of mind and soul due to many misfortunes and probably disappointments in there lives.
When you appear happy and content I notice the resentment from other people that I have something they have not, “Freedom.” So avoid the material world and learn to teach others as best they listen.http://www.CaptainDemocracy.wordpress.com

It would be nice if you came to terms with your own mortality, but not guaranteed. It’s up to you.

And yes, please get life insurance – and a will, and a living will. These are basic, practical steps you should take to protect your family in the future. You can squirm and agonize while the lawyer is talking you through it, but get it done.

My husband and I are both people who often put others first. When our first daughter, Kaela was born, we both made a pact… no heroics. No running into a burning building, no jumping into an icy river, no dancing with the devil in the pale moonlight. Our children need us and that is hero enough.

I recommend everyone read Ernest Becker’s Denial of Death. He absolutely nailed it: we humans develop a *causa sui,* or life project, that we use to symbolically “cheat” death. Whenever we experience depression or appear angst-ridden, likely there’s something amiss with our causa sui (hence, our purported mission on this planet).

Why do I bring Becker’s prize-winning ideas to this blog? Well, it would help for everyone to lighten up a bit. Chances are, if you had children in the first place, then they end up being your “causa sui” (hence, you’ve existed on this planet to procreate–not much different from tadpoles or bunnies). Let the kids be kids; every microscopic decision parents make become “musings” for the web, for, heavens, we wouldn’t want to blemish our “causa sui” . . .

I always thought there were two reasons having children made me aware of my mortality. One was mathematical, you simply start thinking how old you will be as your child reaches certain milestones. Somewhere along the line, you get past the point of survival. The other is more spiritual; when you look into the face of that baby, for the first time in your life you are seeing someone you desperately hope you die before.

My father lived to 95. In his lifetime he saw the passing of his parents, a daughter, a wife, his six siblings and their spouses (except 1), and all of his friends and relatives of his era. He was acquainted with death on an intimate basis…not from the news coverage of the passing of a celebrity. He was in reasonably good health (both metally and physically) for his age, but knew that his physical system was ultimately going to fail. He did not fear his demise for he was convinced of his spirtual destiny.

He maintained a love of life, a curious mind and studied the Bible which he thought of as the book of hope. Is it the book of hope…myth or fact? Probably not a bad starting point to search out the answer…and take the time to also assess the merits of the other great religions. I think the effort is worth it.

As the mother of 3 and a parent coach, I can say that your sentiments are familiar to me. My children are teens and young adults, so I am already in the future you imagine. I can tell you honestly that I have enjoyed being present for this entire ride. I can also share that my fear of NOT being present motivated us to get a will and determine who the legal guardian would be if something happened to us. It was not something we wanted to deal with (that ‘what if’ is a scary thought). Dealing with it meant that no matter what, our children would be cared for, nurtured, and loved by people who we knew were going to do the job well. Please, please, please, get a will, pick a guardian, and invest in life insurance. Even if you don’t sleep better, I will.Rhonda@practicalsolutionsparentcoaching.com

My husband and I are, belatedly, in the process of creating a will together. It’s an odd process, and an awkward one, to think about who will care for our children in the event that we can’t, and what would happen to our meager assets.

It’s also oddly comforting, to me, to think about how the world will go on when I’m gone and how there will still be love, joy, care and material resources for my kids even in my absence.

Oddly, it’s my most sensitive child who is most afraid of death. Not his own. Mine! I never have been afraid of dying, not am I now, for myself. (Except I’d like it not to hurt.) I hope he never has to face his worst fear; I hope I can be there for them like they need me to be. Mostly, I hope he learns to hold life more lightly in his hands. Fear is the worst pain there is.

if you need a celebrity death to make you think of your own mortality there’s something seriosuly wrong. not that it’s worth dwelling upon, but there’s enough death, illness and carnage in the world that if one doesn’t take stock once in a while thye’re either too young to realize (thankfully) or practising some form of escapism.

It is true: You do not forget it if you have seen death close up as you did in Iraq. My husband and I have two children, one of whom has two sons of her own, and I think I also speak for my husband when I say: we will “survive” in our children and grandchildren. My advice to the young parents: Enjoy your son, the experience of watching over and helping a child’s development is full of wonderful surprises. Later, inevitably, there are times of worry and even worse: there is pain perhaps caused by misunderstandings. And since we are now of an age to have experienced most of the stages of family life, we are grateful to have had a good family life, because these late stages are more difficult than we could have anticipated.

When my 80 year old parents sent me a copy of their up dated will, it made me flinch even though I was hitting 50.
There’s is indeed a denial of death in the human soul. The feeling that life is too short hits most of us at some point; that was mine.

Funny– but as a parent I never thought about who would take care of my children if my husband and I died when they were young because I knew someone in the family would step up to take them in. My thoughts always centered around what kind of children I would leave behind if someone else had to raise them.

We did not write a will when the kids were small but we will be doing so now but it will be more about their inheritance than guardians.

When my husband passed away at the age of 44 a mere 18 after his ALS diagnosis, I became highly concerned about being the only parent.

I was more concerned about who would tell my 7 year old daughter about her birth, or my 4 year old son about how soon he walked if something were to happen to me. The burden of being the only parent left to pass down the stories and treasures of who they were felt overwhelming.

Thankfully, through weekends at Comfort Zone camp http://www.comfortzonecamp.org. it’s helped not only my children feel whole despite losing a parent, but also helped me know that we are a blessed in the today. It’s taken away the fear of “what if” and healed us. We have moved on, time has passed.

As my children are now 12 and 9 – they will say or do something that makes me wish their father could who they are becoming or my son will do something that just looks like his father and I know that we live on in our children.

I wonder if those of us who have lost a child have a different take. I don’t fear death, though I would regret dying before my other children are grown. But the notion that we are all perishable does not upset me.

As for Dana’s (#8) proclamation and Jenn’s (#13) subsequent condemnation, I do not want to judge an anonymous person’s threshold for performing “heroics,” but I will say that I have risked my safety half a dozen times since becoming a mom to “save” other children (in one case it might really have qualified as a rescue since it involved running into a busy street to grab a tot.) Each time I have put a stranger’s child’s safety above my own needs/wants, it has felt like the right thing to do.

I hope, should my own children find themselves in a pickle, a kindhearted adult will help them out, too.

When my first child was born, I, too, began having morbid thoughts of death. Especially since I don’t think we have souls or get an afterlife. But the thoughts faded in time, thank goodness. Time does heal. My fear of death transformed into a fear, not for myself, but for him should he lose me. I valued myself much, much more because I knew I was the world to him. I’ve taken better care of myself since.

By the way, please, everyone: rather than a will, consider a revocable inter vivos trust, commonly called a “living trust.” Speaking for myself only (this is NOT legal advice, just my layperson’s opinion), I wouldn’t wish being made executor of someone’s will on my worst enemy. Not only that, but to probate a will makes it public record (remember Groucho?) and takes a long time, leaving one’s dependents waiting for money to live on. I probated my father’s small estate, years ago, in a few days by myself. Look into it–there are many books on the subject…

Talking about the possibility of your death will not change the fact of it. It will happen at some point.

Be prepared. Get a will, life insurance, power of attorney, name a guardian for your child – all that stuff. It is grossly irresponsible to ponder one’s death without having any of this in place – especially when you engage in work that puts your life at risk.

My parents were both dead by the time I was 22. My father nearly died without a will… and would have died without a will if his business partner hadn’t sat him down in his hospital room and demanded that he make one. You really do not want to do that to your child.

My husband and I made wills shortly after we married. We made new wills shortly after we adopted our first son. Ammended it after we adopted our daughter, amended again after divorce of chosen guardians.

Our problem and major concern: Our daughter is mentally ill (professionally tested-diagnosed-and has been seeing a therapist for over half of her 14 years). She has a history of making false allegations against others, forging notes, checks, etc., and pretty much lives in a world of her own perception not based in reality. She has no empathy and doesn’t have an awareness of her own emotions. We are being practical, but not without hope for our daughter, however, she most likely will be unable to provide for herself, let alone be an equal partner in a relationship such as marriage. We don’t have the income that would sustain life insurance policy premiums at a level equal to providing for her care for a reasonable life span. As much as we want to independantly provide for ourselves and our family, we are going to have to rely on social services for some of her adult care as it is. Another worry, will she eventually become a huge burden to society (moreso than what we foresee if we are around to mitigate somewhat), or will she become a dependant burden to our son and his future family?

Spiritually, we are firm and take comfort in our faith in the eternal nature of mankind, and the continuation of familial and other relationships beyond this life. Aside from the financial effects, and emotional grief associated with death, we view it as a temporary loss of association and the next step in our progression; that we will be reunited in the next life by those we cherish in this one.

I too feel quite the same. I was sad about the death of a pop icon this week, but it really pierced my heart when I saw the little girl, MJ’s daughter cry out and tell the world, how much her Daddy loved them, ever since they were born…., At this moment, my mind flashed with voices of my three babies..how much thier father meant to them..??.. In these kind of tradgies.. the children take the toll.., I hope I will live enogh to see mine grow up..and be loved..! We all love our children.. I think MJ, did love his children and all of them..I hope he will be remembered as some one who loved children and his children will show that to the word. This moment was the most memorable one I witnessed today..peace.

About

We're all living the family dynamic, as parents, as children, as siblings, uncles and aunts. At Motherlode, lead writer and editor KJ Dell’Antonia invites contributors and commenters to explore how our families affect our lives, and how the news affects our families—and all families. Join us to talk about education, child care, mealtime, sports, technology, the work-family balance and much more